Late Night Rendezvous
by graywords-girl
Summary: A late night meeting between two people who understand each other better than anyone else. JackChloe... again.


**Late Night Rendezvous

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Pairing: Jack/Chloe

Disclaimer: I do not own 24 or any relating characters. I do, however, own the briefly mentioned "Jennifer" and the story idea! Please no stealing!

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It was very rare for Chloe O'Brian to sleep. She dozed, and sometimes ended up unconscious for some reason or another, but to go and fall asleep, of her own free will, was very odd. What was even stranger was the fact that it was a deep sleep; a dreamless, easy sleep that she never wanted to wake up from. She was exhausted physically, and mentally, and at that moment all she wanted was to rest.

Which was why she was particularly irritated when her cell phone rang at 3:28 in the morning. She considered ignoring it; hell, she was near dozing when she realized it could be CTU.

But that still didn't make her happy about being woken up. So, she reached over and answered it with an irritated, "What?"

She heard a deep chuckle, and raised her head. She could almost see the caller smirking at her reaction. "Hello to you too, Chloe."

She groaned lightly, but sat up and blinked tiredly. "Jack, if this isn't important, so help me…"

She let it hang, knowing full well that she was no match for him, even if every bone in his body was broken. And, ordinarily, she wouldn't have said anything that bold, not even over the phone, but at that point she was too tired to care.

"Were you sleeping?"

"Yes."

He paused, obviously a bit surprised. He knew her well enough; he knew she didn't sleep often. He had expected her to be awake.

A moment passed before he spoke again. "Sorry."

She now sitting cross-legged on the edge of her bed, running a hand through her slightly disheveled hair. "I'm awake now." She murmured. Then, a little louder, "No, it's okay. What is it?"

He paused again. "…Nothing that can't wait until tomorrow. Go back to sleep."

"Jack." She sighed, softly, unsure of exactly what she could say. Settling on taking an offensive stance this time around, she grumbled, "You wake me up at 3:30 in the morning just to tell me to go back to sleep? I'm not letting you get away with that unless you tell me what's on your mind." A thoughtful expression appeared on her face, and she furrowed her brow in brief concentration. "Where are you?"

He didn't answer, and that was all the conformation she needed. She stood up and moved to her window, which overlooked the parking lot of her apartment complex, and pushed aside the curtains. Sure enough, she saw him, sitting in the driver's seat of a dark colored SUV, his cell phone held against his ear, looking up at her. She couldn't help it; she smiled.

"Come up and have some coffee." She offered. She saw him open his mouth to protest, but she cut him off quickly. "Jack Bauer, if you think there's a snowball's chance in hell that I'm going to let you drive—wherever, looking like _that_, then you've got another thing coming."

True enough, even from four stories up, she could clearly see the dark circles under his eyes, and the tired expression he wore. She fixed him with a glare. "Coffee. _Now_."

She hung up, knowing she had won that argument, and moved to her kitchen, stumbling over her shoes, which she had tossed off absentmindedly hours earlier. She nearly killed herself trying to find the light switch (death by spare computer parts and software boxes; what a way to go…) and after her eyes adjusted, she set to work on making the coffee: black, strong, no cream, no sugar; just the way he liked it. (She wouldn't admit that she had come to rely on the bitter taste to keep her awake as well.)

Within a few minutes, there was a knock on her door. She hurried over and unlocked it, and then yanked it open. Jack stood, looking more tired than she had ever seen him, and slightly uncomfortable.

She didn't say a word; just left the door open for him and wandered back to the kitchen to get two mugs. After a moment, she heard the door close, and the sound of the lock sliding into place, which made her smile a bit. She glanced over her shoulder to see him standing in the doorway, and she nodded towards the living room.

"Just get comfortable; it'll be a minute."

He disappeared back into her house, but she knew he wouldn't get comfortable, not that quickly. When the coffee finally finished and she poured it into two mugs and wandered out, she found him analyzing her bookshelf, a thoughtful, and vaguely confused expression on his face, which made her curious; he'd been inside her apartment several times. Nothing had changed. Why was he so focused on something that was always the same?

"Here," she offered, handing out a mug and then taking a seat on her old, worn couch. He stood for a moment, took a sip, and then sat down beside her. They sat in silence for a few moments: a comfortable silence, yes, but also one that neither were sure how to break. After a moment, he spoke.

"I never pegged you as a romance lover." He nodded towards her shelf, where at least half of her books were, indeed, trashy romance novels. She sent him a lopsided smile, and raised an eyebrow. Apparently he hadn't examined her home as thoroughly as she'd originally thought.

"That's redundant." She stated. "And not all of them are mine. Most of them are Jennifer's."

He had met Jennifer, several months earlier. She had been Chloe's neighbor, before she had moved in with her boyfriend. And, now that he thought about it, she did seem like the type to enjoy those types of books.

The conversation died at that. A quiet lapsed over the room, only being broken by the occasional sip of coffee and the gentle hum of Chloe's PC, which was always on. Her thoughts were still somewhat murky from sleep, so for the most part she settled on giving her mind a rest. His, however, was going a mile a minute, hardly pausing to register the fact that the minutes were ticking by faster than they should have.

She could practically sense his discomfort; almost hear the unvoiced thoughts he was concentrating over. But she didn't say anything; she didn't have to. Jack wasn't the type of person who liked being pushed; that was the one mistake people made about him: they always assumed they knew best. They focused so hard on getting him to open up and say something that they ended up pushing him farther and farther away. Chloe was different. He would come to her when he needed her.

In some people's eyes, it would have seemed like an almost one-sided relationship; him using her for what he needed at that moment, dropping all his issues and problems on her for her to solve alone, but never being able to return what was given. But to them, it was as closed to a balanced relationship they would ever come to.

The fact was, she never solved his problems; never fixed them like she fixed the computers she loved. But she listened: offered a shoulder to lean on at any time, and that was all it was: an offer. She never demanded he take it, nor did she push him away. It was his choice to make.

And he chose to trust her. And that was a reward in itself. She didn't need to spill her problems on him; most of them were silly anyway. No reason to complain about the small things she couldn't change. But it was nice to know she had someone's full trust; nice to know that they cared enough to let her in, especially with someone like Jack.

He finished his coffee, though she had barely touched hers, and set the mug back on the table. He moved towards the door and she followed. He slipped his jacket back on, and she struggled to force away a yawn. Then, just before he left, he turned to her and pulled her close, burying his face into her hair and relaxing for the first time since he'd arrived. She held him carefully, cautiously, and rubbed slow, comforting circles along his back with her slender fingers.

And then he pulled away, almost reluctantly, and pulled open the door. But he stopped, which was odd, and turned back to her. She looked at him curiously, and was about to question him, when he moved back to her, and gently brushed his lips against hers, and murmured softly on her lips, "Thank you."

And then he left, leaving her standing in the doorway, slowly tracing her lips.

That was different.

She never asked him what he was thanking her for.

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_Author's Notes: I rewrote this twice: the first time it came out far too silly for my liking, and the second time it ended up so OOC it wasn't even funny. So I stayed up almost an hour later than usual just to rewrite it so that I liked the way it turned out._

_I'm proud of it now!_

_And "Yay" for Jack/Chloe! Gotta love'em!_

_Oh yes; thanks to everyone who review my first24 story, "_Normalcy_"! It really inspired me to keep writing._

_Reviews are loved, and make me squeal, which makes my friends and family look at me like I've grown a second head and are screaming in Arabic. So please, make my friends and family think I've gone coocoo. Review._


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